


No more compassion

by crispycrumblycrust



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispycrumblycrust/pseuds/crispycrumblycrust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No more waiting, no more mercy, not any more. Companion piece - Concealment. Spoilers - 520.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No more compassion

No more compassion

His lips curled – he was ever the kind, optimistic man. But fairness didn't play a role now, consideration for others would become a deadly mistake. Of course, his dear friend had disagreed immediately when Shunsui announced what he planned to do. He had, predictably, insisted there should be a different method, that they shouldn't be asking something with such consequences from her. We cannot demand this from sempai, he had firmly declared, and had fired argument after argument towards him. 

It had been a very long time since they had a disagreement that caused his dear friend refusing to look at him, refusing to be in the same room as himself. 

But, he would not show any kindness, or mercy. Not to the enemy. Not to his colleagues – no, subordinates. Not even to the person dearest to him. He had thrown those things away, the moment the Fourth Division covered the large scar on his head. 

Shunsui hadn't assisted him when the pale mouth stained the cloth with blood, when his other hand had to prevent his weak, trembling body from collapsing. He hadn't even shown concern. He hadn't shown anything. 

Shunsui wished he could have given their sempai a bit more time, wished there was an alternative, wished he didn't have to be such an utter jerk. Because he would ask her – order her, if needed – misusing her loyalty to the previous soutaichou, her scrambled thoughts, shaken mind and inner conflicts.

It was a necessary price. Shunsui would not make the same mistake again. He wouldn't follow his priorities. Defence wouldn't work this time – the last invasion provided enough proof. What use would a very talented healer be if everyone would be dead before she arrived? Half of their trump cards were literally in the enemy's hands. They could crush them whenever they wanted, and Shunsui strongly suspected that the Zero Division would not interfere. No, what they needed now was someone who had power equal to Zanki no Tachi, swordsmanship surpassing sempai's, strength that couldn't be stolen.

For those reasons, his decision must remain unchanged. 

The pale, worn man noticed this – how could he not, since he knew him better than any other, perhaps even better than his cherished, cute fukutaichou? – and abruptly ended the conversation. That was his way to tell Shunsui that he wanted him to leave. Now.

Shunsui uncrossed his legs and stood, his tired eyes glancing at the equally fatigued, hunched form. If green eyes had met his, they would have noticed the fleeting glint of sadness, the pain. 

He turned his back towards the crumpled face and silently walked away. It would be better for both if he left his friend and allowed him to rest some more – he almost barged through the door and had woken him from a shallow slumber. The shadows under the eyes, the defeated posture: he was still grieving. He shouldn't be straining himself. That was his job, now, his weight to carry. 

He was about to turn a corner when he heard hurried steps of feet and a second later, the two Third Seats. They both momentarily paused to glance at their taller superior, the smallest form glancing sadly at him, while the man didn't disguise his anger towards him. 

Shunsui understood. He didn't blame them. They had every right to be angered at him, to be in sorrow. 

Because Shunsui wasn't grieving any more.


End file.
